Mephisto, A Science Story!
by ShaneHaughey
Summary: Terrance Mephisto knows Science. He knows hate. He knows envy. He knows Kyle. Style, not by choice.
1. Respect

"The name is Terrance. I am a God amongst boys, and you will give me my due respect!"

Like all of his experiments, the young Mephisto had managed to astonish with his brilliant ability to play God. He had also failed spectacularly, and the dead hybrid alligator-chicken had lived a brief but painful existence before succumbing to the will of nature herself.

But Terrance didn't think that cause for one of his so-called friends, the thug and petulant snot-nosed miscreant that he was, to not show him respect. Fuckin' Fosse.

"I didn't mean nothing by it, Terrance. I just called ya 'Terry'." The taller idiot responded to his superior's anger with, to the shock of all, more idiocy.

"Terry is a pet name, a nick name, a perversion of my proper name! You shall-"

"Move it already! You're holding up the line!" Some random fat third grader barked from behind Terrance, Bill, and Fosse.

Of course it had to be lunch when his so-called friends decided to piss Terrance off, sending his already irregular thought patterns askew. He wanted to turn that fat kid into a squirrel, but not even he could bend the rules of nature yet. He had already shown that- his hybrid had died mere moments before he had gone to school. One day he would, and when he did, it was squirrel time for that random fat kid. Despite all that, they moved up the line and into the serving area. Their old chef had been some African-American imbecile who was nonetheless popular with the plebeians that infested the school like plague rats. Their new chef was a boring, non-speaking woman who did her insignificant job with an insignificant presence in their lives. It was proper.

"All I'm saying Terrance is that kid Kyle was able to cross-breed, and-" Bill began before Terrance spun around with the velocity of a bullet out of a rifle. He shot Bill a fiery, piercing gaze that seemingly sliced through his skull with a white hot intensity.

"KYLE BROFLOVSKI IS A SHAM ARTIST! HE DID NOTHING! I AM BETTER THAN HE!" Terrance yelled as he slammed his balled fists down on the metal around him several times, his frustrations with that ginger-haired Jewish faux scientist having been a thorn in his side for years. Sure, Terrance had been advanced to the fifth grade, which was a tacit if not complete admission of his intellectual prowess. But that was not enough- he wanted an admission from Kyle himself. That scientific sham of a progressive, that waste of potential, he needed to admit that Terrance was indeed the smartest. Better than he. The best there was and would be. The line continued moving, the boys taking their plastic trays, though he had no real interest in whatever passed for food on this Friday.

"Calm down. Besides, they're all gay." Fosse said in a useless attempt to redirect anger.

"Totally gay." Responded Bill, and the two started giggling like lunatics. Imbeciles!

Terrance continued tapping the metal, paying no heed to the giggling madmen that passed as his friends. He allowed the black thoughts to once again infest every synapse and induce their own individual violent chemical reactions. Such disrepect by the populace on the whole was to be expected, but from his friends? Bah! Kyle's friends certainly respected him where he deserved it, as much as those fools thought he might, whatever wool he had pulled over them all being an effective blindfold to reality. His family loved him and gave him what support he needed, even though as time passed they should have become more and more aware of the baseless nature of their son's so-called intelligence. Terrance had none of that- he had access to a brilliant scientist and his lab, but that was a cold comfort when confronted by the warmness that such solid bonds give off. It would have brought Terrance to tears had it not brought him to the brink of unchained rage first. The line continued and soon they were receiving what passed for food in the American public school system.

"Terrance, ya seem mighty-" Bill began before Terrance, his mind lagging with fury, cut him off as they walked out into the cafeteria.

"All he did was get two animals to mate, Bill. He did nothing that proper conditioning could not have done. He is not a scientist- he is a freak! I am attempting to build from base genetics a new, viable creature. I am not breeding a mutant race of pig-sized elephants that live for a few days before expiring due to nature's laws. I am going to create species that spit in the face of nature and mock her dreary legislation against science, to shatter the censure that their so-called 'God' has put on our mind. Kyle could never even fathom the complex science behind such a crusade. Indeed, I doubt he could even grasp the basic desire for man to transcend his place as servant and worshiper to master and God of this planet! This would not vex me so, but alas, he has managed to fool these simple folk- they now believe he is the one whose intellectual abilities are to be lauded. Lunacy! Heresy! I demand an admission of his inferiority, lest we allow such injustice to continue!" Terrance rambled on, his righteous fury taking him to heights that his friends were unable to scale with him. He could see this saddening fact in their eyes as he turned to them- they were lost. He sighed as they sat down.

"I just want him to admit I'm better than him." He said simply, his eyes darting around to find that fourth-grade messiah of intellect, that deceiving and facetious mongrel who had eliminated from the collective memory the respect due to Terrance thanks to his aforementioned deceptive nature. He soon found him and his group of friends. As idiots could always be found doing, they were them was almost as interesting as studying the rage-infested monkeys that Alphonse kept locked up in the basement, though for different reasons. The human animal was a social one, yet the rules changed almost hypocritically in each case. Stan Marsh was one case of many that supported the theory that man was getting less able to distinguish true worth from what amounted to human parasitical tendencies. More intelligence than the others, though he was of little note beyond being better than a single-cell organism. Yet he suckled on the collective teat of mankind's true global opiate, sports, and this mass of wasted flesh and brain tissue found himself popular based on the laughable outcomes of wasteful and useless athletics. He was, in truth, a parasite to those close to him. This attention, this praise, would manifest themselves in his family as either hate(as Terrance was well-aware Shelley felt towards her brother) or a doting sort of over-protection, that he was sure Sharon could lay a harsh claim to. In school his actions would be blown out of proportion- indeed, his success in sports would make him a hero when in reality he was no better for the species than a friendly pet cat. To his friends, he would be the unwitting soul and center, towards which subconsciously the others would compare themselves to. Unable to compete with the attention that their friend Stan would receive as long as he did well in sports, they would either come to resent their friend or resent their own failures. Stan Marsh would suck the life out of friends and family alike, as a parasite feeds off of nutrients found in the human body. He was also close, good friends with the object of Terrance's hatred, who himself seemed unable to be made to see the superiority of science over nature.

"Science over nature..." Terrance trailed off, his thoughts that were once jumbled coagulating into a coherent stream of conscious thought. Schemes and plans came to life.

"Bill, what do you know of Kyle's friend, Stan Marsh? What of Kyle's family?" Terrance asked in a hurry, his eyes now alight.

"Uhh...well, Stan's a football player and they're best friends." Bill said.

"So gay." Fosse responded.

"Totally gay." and the giggling began.

"But is he really attracted towards Kyle that way?" Terrance asked, genuinely curious. He was curious about anything that may impact his planning.

"Umm, I don't think so." Bill responded.

"Good. Good. I need you two to look up Kyle's family. I need to go home and get to work." Terrance said as he stood up, ready to leave the drudgery of the cafeteria behind. He had work to do.

"What are you doing, Terrance?" Fosse asked, his dead eyes a perfect match for his dull personality.

"SCIENCE!"


	2. Science Mocks You

The sun reflected off of the snow for only a brief moment before Terrance slammed shut the door to the Genetics Ranch- home, he called it. The cries of many-assed animals were the only sounds that reached him as he shut tight the door and fiddled with the locks. The contrast behind nature's light and artificial night was blinding, and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust to man's darkness, to adjust to the ill-lighting that bathed the main chamber room.  
"Terrance, why are you home so early?" He could hear his father ask, his care limited by his work.  
"Science will not be stopped by such petty concerns as a school's schedule for me." Terrance responded, spitting out the word 'school'. School? Bah! Education? Bah! Artificial bonds of the state, seeking to corral the people like sheep in order to manufacture workers and abort creativity in the womb like the McCormick child likely went through. But while he managed to survive, creativity was not blessed by Cthulu.  
"Yes, yes, very good. You have learned well." Mephisto responded as he shot his little man-creature Kevin a look. Instinctively, Kevin handed Mephisto a tool. How Terrance loathed that foul creature. Mephisto spent all his time with Kevin, leaving Terrance to his work. All would be well in the end- the creature may be sucking away what life remained in the relationship between father and son, but his life span was short and his expiration date was nearing.  
"Father, I need your help. Tell me about the gay bomb." Terrance asked quickly, almost half-jogging across the room and passing many asses on the way.  
Mephisto turned, a quizzical look carved onto his face like molded clay.  
"Why, Terrance?"  
"Just tell me." Terrance responded curtly, already impatient with his father and his attitude. Valuable moments were being lost and while those who sucked on the tit of faith believed there was eternity waiting for them, Terrance knew the folly of wasting the one lifetime a man was afforded.  
Mephisto got up and started walking towards the back, Terrance and Kevin in tow.  
"I was contacted by the military in my...younger years...to develop what is known now as the 'gay bomb'. It isn't true that it turns men gay- at least the one that got accepted didn't. All it did was cause extreme arousal that, when paired with being dropped on formations in opposing militaries made up of men, well-" He said with a grin as he started to slowly type on a keypad. Kevin took over and did it quicker,"you can see why it is called the gay bomb."  
"Why was it not picked up for real development?"  
"There were more than a few reasons, Terrance. First and foremost, the chemicals never achieved the desired impact due to being dispersed. It could theoretically have worked when dealing with bunkers, but any area with an open-air source would not be impacted in any way. Secondly, there were concerns over morality, though they were only raised after." He said, taking the seat that Kevin left just as information relating to the chemicals in the bomb came up on screen.  
"Morality is just a weak man's excuse to not do what is necessary, father."  
"Yes, that- that is what I thought when I was younger as well, son." Mephisto said, his dull eyes drawing down slowly in regret and remembrance of deeds best left forgotten. He shook it off and gathered himself.  
"The biggest reason was cost effectiveness. It cost a lot of money to produce the bomb and it never achieved the desired effect. So it was discontinued. Now tell me Terrance, why do you ask this?" Mephisto asked as he turned towards his black-hearted son.  
"Father, I have a proposition for you. I need access to some of your research on the so-called 'gay bomb' as well as trans-human/subhuman transference. I will do what I do with the information amd give you the results of my experiments. Your research benefits from my lack of supposed morality, yet you do not have to deal with the ethical concerns that would arise if you did them." Terrance said plainly, looking with a twinge of pity at his father. A great scientist, reduced to rubble thanks to his conscience, a violent morality, intervening.  
Mephisto looked at his son with concern, yet in the depths of his eyes a spark seemed to have been lit. The flames of hell were alive as it roasted his morality at the stake, a blasphemer against the Gods of Science. He took a gulp as his conscience cried out.  
"I...cannot say no, Terrance. But I learned long ago that even if you were not to tell me, the guilt would lie with me if something were to happen. You must tell me what plans you have for my research." Mephisto said, his voice faltering as he realized that a lifetime of corruption at the altar of progress does not easily abide passing up on kickass research. Terrance smiled.  
"I will use your 'gay bomb' to turn Kyle Broflovski's friend, that Stan Marsh kid, homosexual for Kyle. I want to do something to his brother Ike as well- maybe turning him into a cat or something, haven't really decided." Terrance said, not yet deciding if a bird would have been better.  
"Terrance, you know that the trans-species modification transporter was a failure. I will not risk a life in there." Mephisto replied sternly.  
"You won't have too, father. We shall find a way to solve that riddle together."  
There was silence as the elder Mephisto thought about the chance to spend good, quality time with his son as they conducted this science. He hardly spent time with his son- what more could he have asked for, really?  
"You'll have to change the dispersal method of the chemical." Mephisto said slowly as father and son locked eyes. It was not a statement, but a question- one that the elder had already figured out. It was up to the smaller one to figure it out.  
"...Liquid form. Syringe, perhaps?"  
"Yes, yes, of course. And this Stan fellow is good friends with Kyle, so you need a plan."  
Terrance looked away as Mephisto pressed a few keys. A machine started shaking across the room, sending the animals into a frenzy. Kevin started wandering towards the machine.  
"Father, this chemical works by creating arousal where there was none, right? What would it do to a pre-pubescent child?" Terrance asked as he opened the door to the lab downstairs, seeing as secret tests needed some level of secrecy.  
"Well...I can only guess, but depending on the dose, you would probably get an overpowering urge immediately that since the body is barely able to cope with has more psychological and physiological change-" The elder Mephisto responded in turn as he started the long walk downstairs, followed by his son and joined some thirty minutes later by Kevin.  
That is when science started.  
Night and day pass quickly when science is conducted in the dark. Father and son, together with a common purpose, quality time spent accomplishing what men with morality would scoff at. Terrance would take breaks from his work to do homework and deal with school- so prestigious was his name(if also reviled at times), and so overwhelmingly incredible were his grades that they dare not drop him, lest an entire grade suddenly fail as a whole without the rock, the Gibraltar of the 5th. Test after test, discussion after discussion, honeyed words slipping off of cursed tongue. Data cooking overnight along with beef stroganoff and hamburger helper. Distraction batted aside as an angry stripper bats away poor customers, Bill and Fosse denied the company of the only influence above the level of a rat time and time again, as a cuckold husband is denied his adulterous wife. Father came to respect his son's tenacity and creative thinking. Son came to respect his father's ability to unravel the mysteries of science wit the ease of a kitten and a ball of yarn. Eventually, the pieces started to fall together. Science was almost done.  
But without knowledge of his target, all the science on Earth was wasted on Terrance. He started going out more with his friends, who were just happy to see another friendly face. Their charming personalities drove all possible friendships before them. The real object was to study Stan. Study his habits, his weaknesses, when to hit him, how to cover it all up. Sparky, his gay little dog and source of almost endless amusement for Bill and Fosse, was taken out for a regular walk in the woods. Then came an event of great import- Sparky ran away. For three full days, Stan Marsh was a weeping hurricane of emotion as he looked for his beloved animal. When found, great joy was had by all.  
Bingo.


	3. Winter Wonderland

Nature's cold gift of snow was a comfort to the insane and the whimsical only. To be out in it was a royal cunt, to borrow a phrase from Bill. Each single flake drifted lazily to the ground, adding to the cold with every second. A white blanket was perpetually draped over the forests around South Park. Nature was a loser, negating the so-called beauty of its forest by covering it with snow. And what a forest it covered; the town was surrounded for miles in any direction by it. So thick was it all that many less intelligent individuals seemingly forgot that they were on top of a mountain, nestled in a mountain range. There were many small dips and dives, recessions and hills. Who knows how many have fallen victim to these basic facts of Earth? Nature was unregulated in her ceaseless cruelty. Bitch.  
"It's f-f-f-fucking cold, Terrance." Bill stuttered pathetically from his perch atop a tree. Terrance shot a glance up- the shaking of his foot was causing snow to fall off the branch.  
"Stop your moving, fool! Stan should be here at any moment." Terrance hissed in reply. These inbred morons would not get in the way of science.  
"Bill's right, Terrance. It's gotta be below freezing." Fosse replied as he kept his usually silent vigil over Sparky. The homosexual dog and bait for this journey was out cold, a mild sedative and sleeping agent injected into him about three hours earlier. It would be another two hours before the mutt would wake to meet his master, so Terrance saw nothing wrong with tying the creature up to a tree and allowing it to drift in and out of dreams.

"Stan will come here when he realizes his mutt is missing. Just hit him with the tranquilizer and allow me to do what I need, then we can leave." Terrance replied with a smile, opening his breast pocket to reveal two syringes. Next to those were two tiny vials of the final chemical compound and memory agent, kept next to his breast for warmth. It was more important than either Bill or Fosse, and he was quick to remind them of that.  
The place they had chosen was perfect for the plan. It is close to where Sparky had been found previously, near a small bend in the unmarked path. On either side was a recession, with the left side being unmarked by trees and well known. On the right, however, the thicket was such that no one could see the relatively steep decline. Someone could get hurt, and it was Terrance's intention to make Stan believe he had been knocked out due to a fall. To complete this illusion, Terrance had already prepared an agent that would cause temporary memory loss and cause severe aches and pains- Stan would believe that he had fallen down the decline and been knocked out. In reality, Bill would hit Stan with a tranquilizer after which Terrance would inject the chemical via a spot on his neck. Then he would be taken down the decline slowly, where Sparky would be placed next to him. Terrance would make sure to wake the mutt and then leave. Stan would wake, in pain and believing he had found his missing canine. Only then would the chemical hit.  
The final chemical would do a number on the boy. Terrance knew Stan kept a few small pictures of friends and family with him- it was his intention to make sure that Kyle's picture was the only one he had. The small wallet would be torn and in front of him, prompting him to look for the pictures. He would see only Kyle's- just as the chemical kicked in. It would, in normal people, create an intense sexual desire that could be relieved and would not account for much in the grand scheme of things. However, Stan was different. Not only was he nine, and therefore not really able to relieve himself easily, but his ingestion of a large amount of hormones had likely slowed or even stopped development of sexual characteristics for a short time. Nothing that would be a concern for him by the age of twenty, but it was likely he wouldn't even start puberty until he was fifteen or sixteen. Without even the remote possibility of relief, the mind would cope with it physiologically by using the desire in new ways. Stan's already intense feelings for his best friend would be turned against him- a strong brotherly bond would become an extremely intense feeling of deep longing and passion that would turn his world upside down. By being around, expressing, and loving Kyle in the ways he could cope with, Stan would feel that intense desire fade. This was as a drug might make depression fade, with the attendant risks: Kyle would quickly become Stan Marsh's cocaine or heroin. When denied his companionship, Stan would feel the desire stronger and worse every time. If it lasted too long, then Stan would mentally and physiologically become addicted to Kyle.

Of course, this was not likely to happen. While interesting, Stan Marsh was a useful test subject for other experiments and it was unwise to waste such a specimen for petty reasons, wich Terrance was starting to acknowledge drove him. Of course, petty or not, Terrance had every intention of seeing this through to the end, putting Stan's fate in Kyle's hands utterly. If he acted quick enough, then very little of Stan will have changed. If he waited too long to admit the intellectual superiority of Terrance W. Mephisto, then there was little Terrance could do to stop Stan's entire existence from revolving from his Ginger friend.

"I see him!" Bill yelled out excitedly, shaking the tree branch again as he looked down the scope of his modified rifle.  
"Hehehehehe, a soon to be fag looking for his gay dog."  
"Hehehehe gay dog."  
"Stupid gay dog."  
"Silence yourselves!"

Stan Marsh moved quickly up the road. His dog was getting out more and more. He blamed that really crappy fence. It was so broken down and useless that even Cartman could sneak through without causing a ruckus. He guessed he couldn't really put the blame on anyone other than himself- he HAD been the one who ran into it playing catch with Randy a few months ago. He decided to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of Randy and leave it at that.  
"SPARKY! ! WHERE ARE YOU, BOY?" Stan yelled out once more, his voice starting to grow hoarse.  
Where was his dog?

"WOOF WOOF!" Sparky arose from his slumber abruptly, the instinct to answer his master's call waking hi with the urgency of a bell being rung.  
"What the fu-" Fosse began. Everything was unraveling thanks to his moronic companions not knowing how to adapt. The dog's barking would draw Stan even closer, but now of course they were making a racket.  
"TAKE THE SHOT BILL!"

Stan's head jerked in the direction of his dog's reply to his dire question. A smile swamped his face and he started jogging for a moment, his body ignoring the jolt of the cold to answer the sacred duty of master to pet. Then he heard voices, and the alarms that had been the instrument of his many successes started going off. His jogging slowed as he looked around- was that the glint of a scope?  
He had no time to react as the tranquilizer dart fired by Bill slammed into the thick of his right arm. The sheer impact turned him around in place, almost comical in a fashion. Stunned, Stan turned to his new wound and pulled the dart out. His woozy eyes could catch the faintest trickle of a liquid. Then his body started to react to the medication now flowing through him.  
"God..." He moaned lowly as he dropped the dart, his fingers no longer responding to his mind's frantic but increasingly sporadic signals.  
"Damn..." He said in what was barely a whisper as he fell to his knees, his awareness starting to fail as the images around him started to turn black against white, night swallowing day without remorse and without defense.  
"...It." The last word trickled out his body, the last thing he did before he collapsed forward a curse, exasperation expressed without intelligence and with pure frustration. To be expected from an inbred hick.

Terrance and Fosse waited with baited breath, both pairs of eyes looking up at Bill earnestly. After a few tense moments in which Terrance had been prepared to unleash his frustration on Stan by forcing the worst case scenario by giving him a triple dose, Bill nodded his head.  
"I got Mr. Raggedy Andy. He's down. Hehehe gay." Bill said softly, enjoying the shot. It had been right where he had been told to hit: Right arm. The dart was thick enough to penetrate the coat that Stan wore(such tests had been conducted on a similar coat in the lab) and it would be unlikely that anyone would care to look for a small puncture when a large fall was reported. Bill started to come down from his sniper's nest, the rope that had allowed him access in the first place allowing a rapid access.  
Not that the other two cared. Immediately after Bill had given them the all clear, Terrance had sprinted towards the collapsed boy while Fosse went to deal with the dog. Terrance knelt down next to Stan and took into account what had been most unlikely: Bill had done something right in his life. After acknowledging the improbable becoming reality, Terrance turned Stan over. Well, he tried. Terrance was maybe thirty or thirty five pounds lighter than Stan was- Terrance hardly ate and was active enough, yet did not build his muscles in any sense. Stan ate well, ate often, was involved in many activities, and was a very fit young athlete. He was a bitch to turn, but after a few seconds Terrance had managed to get the body rolling and soon after Stan was on his back.  
Terrance's hands shot towards Stan's pants pockets-  
"Hehehehe gay."  
"GET MOVING!"  
-And took out his wallet with a picture of John Elway. So typical- the parasite idolized a more destructive parasite and searched for a status symbol such as a wallet to replace the hole left by his lack of intellectual ability. He opened it up and saw pictures, memories transferred to material means so lesser beings could contemplate the justification for their trivial existence. He took out the pictures of his mother, father, friends, girlfriend, and pocketed them. They could come in handy at a later time. He took out the fifteen dollars in the wallet and took all but one five dollar bill, which he tore slightly and put back in at an angle. The wallet was to have fallen out of his jacket on the way down the decline- it better look beat.

Back to science.  
He flipped open his breast pocket with his left hand while his right shot into his pants pockets-  
"Hehehehehehe gaaaay!"  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? I NEED HIS DOG TO BE ABLE TO WALK IN ABOUT A MINUTE!"  
-And brought out a pair of white gloves. He put the two syringes and the two chemical vials on Stan as he put the gloves on, as science had certain regulations that he would respect, such as his own personal safety. He then brought the 'gay compound', hereafter known as "Nova-6". He took the top of the syrings off, revealing the needle. He pressed down on the plunger, examining the action slowly. It met his requirements. He then struck the needle into the top of the vial and saw the needle sink into the liquid. His eyes were sharp as he pulled the plunger back, taking liquid in. It was important that nothing get in the way-  
"THE DOG IS HUMPING ME!"  
"HAHAHAHAHA GAY DOG IS HUMPIN' YA, FOSSE! STUPID GAY DOG!"  
-BECAUSE, Terrance thought with fury, many things could go wrong. If he got an air bubble in there and stuck Stan with it, he could kill him. Too useful a specimen for that. If he gave Stan too little of the chemical, the intended impact could take years and would be far less likely to force Kyle's hand. Too much, and Stan's life would be decided for good on this cold Saturday afternoon. It was important that Terrance allow Kyle to decide their fates, allow the battle to be waged between his own ego and conscience.  
After he had the right dose, Terrance turned Stan's neck so he could see the left side of it. He wish he had the tools to prepare the injection site, but truth be told, he didn't give too much thought to the safety of his test subjects as long as it wouldn't stop the experiment. He stuck Stan with Nova-6 and slowly pushed the plunger down, releasing the chemical into his body. He then pulled out- hehehehe, gay- and repeated this process with the memory drug. He then put the top of the syringes back on and stuck everything back where it belonged. So entranced by the success of his experiment was he that Bill snuck up on him.  
"Hey-" Bill began but never had a chance to end.  
"GAAAAHHH! Oh, it's just you. You scared the hell out of me, Bill." Terrance replied with a shriek, jumping back involuntarily and sending both hands up to his face in shock. Cowardly, yes. Stupid, no. He had learned to defend the face and allow the rest of his feeble frame take the damage during a fight. His brain was too valuable to be damaged.  
"Is he gonna be gay now? Heh, like he wasn't before." Bill asked, admiring what he had a hand in doing.  
"Yes. Now we just need to get the body to the appointed spot."  
"I don't want to do it."  
Silence.

Rock, Paper, Scissors solves all childhood legal issues, such as who gets to drag bodies across the woods. Luckily for Terrance, he knew the tendencies of his friend well enough to win four straight in a best of seven. And so Bill had to drag Stan, who was about ten pounds heavier than he, along the thin path they had found hours earlier and great joy was had by all. Fosse allowed the mutt to walk around, very interested and loyal to its master was it, yet too dumb to realize that something was bad. Now he prepared the crash site, Stan's cell phone and wallet laid in the exact correct position. Then Stan, after a long journey, was laid to rest in the chosen position. His face was now bloodied and scratched to all hell. Terrance knelt down and took a small sample of his blood. His father had actually requested it- he wanted to prove a few theories right. Regardless, when done, they all sat back and admired their work. He would believe he had fallen down the decline and passed out for a good thirty minutes. Injured and cold, he would call 911 or his parents. But between his clothing and the chemicals, his body would remain hot- he and the dog would be uncomfortable, but they would be safe. Mother nature took care of the trail. Terrance smiled. Science and mother nature sometimes were great allies.  
With that, the three left. Terrance had wiretaps to work on Stan's phone and he could hardly wait for the hours to pass until the next school day arrived.  
Illegal in many ways, but oh so right.


	4. When Stan Fell for a Friend

South Park Elementary had often screwed Terrance in his quest to perfect the art of science. First, they vastly underfunded various departments that would have aided him in this mission, usually so as to save something asinine as the athletics program or the music department. As if either had benefited man in any really meaningful way, the dolts. Then, they served food that was devoid of any true nutrition, weakening the bodies and therefore the minds of the student populace. They laughed and smiled as they ate the food, but Terrance saw only the rotting away of their teeth as an apt metaphor for the rotting of their brains that was endorsed by the school. Third, the school hired absolute morons as teachers- even the fifth grade teacher, a class that was supposed to match his curiosity up with the material, was a buffoon. She couldn't even speak when confronted with the scientific facts behind emotions, the chemical reactions that guide men and women to and through 'love' and other chemical reactions that humans believe is in some way a product of their own , they had the audacity to almost always disallow him time for his experiments. This was likely due to the fact that his test subjects were still stuck in the fourth grade, though he liked to imagine there was some greater conspiracy against the sciences afoot.

So, as he dealt with his class on Monday, Terrance cursed the school. He would have to wait until lunch to see the impact his experiment had. This obstacle caused agitation which caused agravation which caused, as Mackey put it when Terrance was sent to his office for snapping at a feeble-minded female student who questioned him, an attitude problem. Simpletons, delaying what was needed in the name of right and wrong. Ethical fallacies were not as egregious as logical errors, and the logic of their decisions was nonexistent. So as he ate lunch in the counselor's office as punishment, he decided that when the time came, he would make sure Mackey was a test subject. He might have cured his hoarding problem for now, but Terrance was known to be a somewhat vindictive individual.  
So, recess was the last chance Terrance had. Luckily, he had equipped himself for almost any contigency. A directional microphone would allow him to stay at some distance and observe Stan and, probably, Kyle if they had a conversation. Useful for spying, and fairly easy to smuggle into a school when broken up into several parts. Tucked nicely into his backpack and then locker, he could only marvel at the lack of security as he brought the pieces out, assembled the microphone, and walked down the lonely halls with a somewhat large black object that was foreign to a school scene in any sort of decent regularity.

He stepped outside into the violent sun, the rays it produced shooting off snow, playground equipment, and the occasional pair of braces. Bill and Fosse could be seen playing with some sort of doll- yes, they certainly had no issues themselves as they labeled everything else gay- as Terrance stepped out. He would let them be. Besides, they would draw attention. That would be bad.

He scanned the playground quickly. He was a ghost amongst the living when out here, able to pass without a notice most of the time. The girls didn't pay him any heed, not the ones playing their games and not the ones who spent their time refining the most womanly trait of all, gossip. The boys hardly shot him a glance on the best of days, not the ones who were playing their mindless sports and games, nor the ones who used what little brainpower they had to formulate scenarios for them to play out. A man amongst zombies, Terrance was, the only King amongst slaves. He walked briskly to the brick and mortar barrier and hopped over it, deciding it was better this way for when he was done. He would go home and decide what course of action was best, so no need to delay that with the physical journey of the school to stand in the way.

He turned back to the playground and scanned it once more, this time looking for his targets. They were never hard to find, even on a difficult day. Gay or not, they were attached to the hip. Playing games, laughing, sharing each other as friends and as brothers in thgeir own judgments, formulating plans and dissecting their pointless minutia. Terrance had never understood either one of them. Why did people subject themselves to this ritual? Why share what made the heart ache, the soul quake? If one can enjoy happiness on his own terms, why share that with another? Why compromise, risk fights, entangle your life with another? And why couldn't he engender those same feelings in another? Was he not the best, and if so, why did people pass him over and choose others?

What did they see in each other? One was from a middle class family whose father was spending them into the lower-class very slowly. The other lived in security, his father manipulating courts, people, and the system in order to gain the lifeblood of this country in a vast amount, only to be outshined by few others in the county. One was a bona fide athlete, sports star and all that entailed, who worked hard at his craft and was respected by the sheep for his efforts. The other was the best basketball player at a school that didn't field a basketball team. One was a decently intelligent- for a sheep, at least- yet, would never be smart enough to become a scientist or actually help the human race. The other held within his developing brain a glimmer of hope beyond Terrance that there was hope for the future in regards to the young scientists who would one day come to overthrow the world of nature and the so-called Gods of man and the superstitions that had corrupted mankind ethically for untold centuries. They both believed in the same God, their differing religions not being a barrier to their continued friendship, though Terrance could only scoff at any believers. Stan was of German-English ancestry, Kyle of Serbian ancestry. While both tended to be socially liberal, observation had led Terrance to believe one could be deemed a conservative in other senses, the other liberal. Both were emotional, though Stan tended to be sweeter and Kyle angrier. Kyle had started to dislike dogs, Stan loved his dog.  
All logical avenues for companionship were not there. So what was there between them? What was between most friends? One day, science would answer this question. Science provides for those who seek it answers and solutions where before mist and obstacles barred progress.

He continued scanning and eventually found their trademark forms slumped against cement stairs on the other side of the building, near the loading docks. Looked like they desired privacy. Terrance aimed his directional microphone, put his headphones on, and listened.

Stan had been acting awfully strange ever since he had fallen in the woods, Kyle thought. It had started Saturday night, when Kyle had called to see how his friend was doing. After stammering and sounding like he was about to ave an asthma attack, Stan had hung up abruptly. Kyle came to see him Sunday in the afternoon after the Marsh family had returned from their Church service, only to find his friend in a strange state of mind. Alone in their room, Stan could hardly make eye contact, speak, or seemingly deal with with Kyle. It had started to really, really piss Kyle off. It was one thing for Stan to be holding secrets, but another for him to do so and make Kyle really, really, really worried about his friend.  
It had continued well into the school day. Stan had not been at the bus stop: He had Sharon drive him to school, though from what he heard, he had almost been sobbing, asking his mom to keep him home. Wendy had become concerned when he had started acting really, really funny with her as well, as if when he was with her, there was a large weight weighing his heart down around her. In class, Kyle had caught Stan giving him funny, almost crazy looks. He couldn't seem to remember what Garrison was saying. He could hardly keep still, his left leg drumming a steady, silent beat. He was rubbing his inner thighs and the back of his neck constantly. Even Cartman had gone from making fun of Stan to being concerned. Okay, well, he was still making fun of him, but Cartman went from calling him a pussy to asking if he had been tree raped like in Evil Dead 2. That was how the fat bastard showed concern, so progress.

It had come to a head at lunch, when Stan had decided to basically fuck off out of the cafetria instead of eating. Kyle tracked his friend down in the bathroom, splasing his face with water harshly. When Kyle had swung into view, Stan's eyes became a mixture of emotions that Kyle had never quite seen before. Love, fear, confusion, and something else that Kyle couldn't identify. Kyle was stunned to see his friend's face completely beet red, the knees slighlty buckling, his chest heaving up and down rapidly in a crazy fashion.  
"Sta-" Kyle began before Stan cut him off loudly.  
"R-R-Recess! A-At r-r-r-recess, we-we'll talk!" Stan croacked quickly, his voice a mix of both despair and an intense form of anxiety. Kyle was taken aback and had no choice but to accept and slowly back away, hurt and confused immensely by his friend. What had Kyle done to Stan to deserve this? It was almost bringing Kyle to tears.  
They had been friends for a long time and knew what private place was best for them. Kyle sat and waited impatiently and was rewarded a few minutes into recess with the image of his friend taking small, pensive steps towards him, his eyes unblinking and frozen in a bloodshot visage. He slowly circled down and took his seat as Kyle stood up, one arm on a rail. It was here that Terrance found them.

"Okay dude, what the fuck is going on?" Kyle asked, cutting through the red-tape of friend discussions and getting to the nitty gritty.  
"I-I-I don't really know m-myself, K-K-K...I don't know, b-but it happened in the woods." Stan responded, his face pointed downwards. Terrance listened to his voice carefully and was pleased. Without positive affirmation, Stan was more or less in a state of withdrawal regarding Kyle. If Kyle was half the friend Terrance assumed he was, then Kyle would tell his friend everything was okay and he accepted his friend, even if he didn't feel the same way. That would allow Stan, like a junkie, to get his fix. It would also make sure he never got an overdose that would shock this new lifestyle of his out of him. It was perfect.  
"Well, tell me something!" Kyle responded angrily. He was not prepared for the response.  
"I-I love you. Like, love-love." Stan said with his eyes closed. As the words slithered their way out, Terrance could feel the stress start to fade. Good. Once he could operate normally, it would become normal to feel this way. Normal until Terrance got what he wanted, and normal to the point that without it, he was a wreck.

There was an awfully awkward silence.

"Umm...uhhh...since when?" Kyle asked, his voice caught between many places. A little shock, a little horror, a little embarrassment, and a little bit flattered.  
"I-I don't know, but I woke up in the woods after the fall feeling this way. It...it feels like every part of me is afire when you're around, but not in a bad way. I-I can hardly talk, the lump in my throat is so fucking huge. My heart feels like it is forgetting to pump blood. My legs start to feel like they are made of jello. Your voice sends shivers down my spine, and my brain screamed to not wash my right hand when you touched it on Saturday night to see if I was okay. You're just so goddamn beautiful to me that when I look at you, I can hardly stop myself from breaking down and kiss you. A-a-and I don't know why!" Stan blathered, his voice cracking and breaking as he recounted words that must have sounded like something he would have uttered in his nightmares.

A longer awkward silence, then Kyle sighed.  
"Stan...you're my best friend." Kyle said softly, his compassion shining through.  
"Ky...Kyle, please, don't think I'm asking you to-" Stan pleaded for the chance to end that sentence, but Kyle hand waved him down and Stan's heart was compelled to act on it.  
"No dude, uhh, you are asking me to be your, you know, yeah, uhh, you know. And I don't know what brought all this up dude, but as I was saying, you're still my best friend. You've been to hell and back for me, and I'd do the same for you too. But I'm not gay, like, at all." Kyle said, trying to sound friendly but nervousness pervaded his small speech.  
"K-Kyle, what do I do about Wendy?" Stan asked, his voice pitching high. He sounded like he was almost in tears.  
"Well, what happened earlier?  
"S-she wanted to talk to me about this new outfit she bought, since y-you know how girls are about that s-stuff, and I couldn't help myself and I was imagining you doing it or saying it instead. I got so flustered that I got angry and we got into a fight. B-but Kyle, the worst part is, I used to find her cute-"  
"Yeah, I remember you just staring at her across the cafeteria and walking into walls and shit."  
"-But I don't anymore. At all. I don't find any of the other girls attractive either. And none of the other guys. Just y-you." Stan said, his voice returning to normal as his brain alligned his emotions once more.  
"Really? Heh, tell the girls what you find good looking about me. I think my nose turns them off."  
"Well, your nose turns me-"  
"Okay, no, none of that." Kyle cut in quickly, not wanting to hear the end of that sentence."S-sorry, couldn't help it. But you do have a beautiful nose. And face. And hair. And arms. And bu-"  
"No. Stan, no. None of that."  
Silence for a moment. Terrance strained to hear.  
"I can...you know what, dude? I can accept this. I mean, I'm not gay or anything and I don't feel the same way, but this really seems to be a real thing for you. And I still owe you for tricking Cartman into giving me a kidney. So here is what I want you to do. Feel for me how you do, but transfer that, act it out or whatever, on Wendy for now. Pretend I'm her or some shit. Meanwhile, we'll find some way for your...very expressive...emotions to become more manageable, and then you can tell everyone." Kyle said with an air or serenity. He wanted to calm his friend down. Fuck that, he needed to calm his friend down or else Stan was going to go batshit insane.  
Terrance heard a rustle of clothing for a few seconds. A likely hug.

"This...is...one...tight...hug...off...off, Stan...OFF. STAN." Kyle narrated events as he then seemingly clawed Stan off.  
"S-sorry, I'm, uhh...still getting used to not being completely insane when I stare into your eternally hazel eyes."  
"Yes. Now go tell Wendy about her ocean blue eyes and how you want to swim in them or some shit, dude."  
And with that, Stan wandered off and Terrance took the headset off and bent down below the brick and mortar wall.  
It had gone as he imagined. This strong attraction to Kyle would become a normal part of Stan's life, and something that would need more and more positive affirmation. If the plan Kyle had was to permanently transfer these feelings to Wendy, it would work for a while, Stan becoming the dream boyfriend for her. But the feelings had a name, a gender, a person attahced, and no amount of willpower or belief would stop it for long. From what he heard, Stan and Kyle had about two weeks until they would go public with Stan's newfound sexuality.  
But that was officially old news, for the moment. He had science to do back at the lab, and so he started sprinting in a straight line across woods and intersections antnot towards the lab.

Kyle was not yet done, however. He watched Stan eventually go back to the playground, get on his knees, and seemingly give one of the more intense and passionate speeches in the history of puppy love. Wendy went from looking upset, to shocked, to blown away and finally overjoyed, her hands on her mouth as she then warmly embraced her beau. The girls around her either giggled or, collectively, went 'aww'. The boys seemingly didn't care, though there were some hushed whispers. Birds flew overhead, the sun shined, and all other sorts of gay crap that didn't concern Kyle. Too bad he hadn't paid attention to that epic speech, for he couldn't tell you about line by line. He could probably take a stab in the dark as to the content, though- he was sure it was based off of what Stan had just said to him.  
And that was troubling. As happy as they looked in each other's arms, Kyle knew that it would come to a sad, crashing end for both of them. He wasn't worried about Wendy. If everything else failed, he had always respected her and he did think she was cute. If she liked him, well, he wouldn't say no. But Stan...would be the first openly gay boy and would be the target of cruel pranks. And the damndest thing was, Kyle wasn't buying that this was natural for a second.

Could it be an act? Doubtful. Stan wouldn't do this, nor could he. And why would he even want to? This would destroy his social life.  
Dare or a prank? Not likely. This seemed too intense.  
It had to have been something that happened to him in the woods when Sparky had went missing, and it had to have been done without his knowledge. He said he had lost consciousness, but how? Stan's face had been scratched to all hell, but there hadn't been any head trauma. Nor did the X-ray reveal any broken bones. That decline was a steep one though. If he had fallen, wouldn't he have broken something? And wouldn't he have had to have some sort of indication of even a bump on his head to say he was knocked out?  
He had nothing. Asthma attack? He would have died, plus there wasn't anything in the area that he was allergic to, which was caused his attacks. Plus, he had been there last time when he found Sparky-

Wait.  
Sparky got away again and ran to the same place again? Kyle remembered Stan getting chewed out about Sparky getting loose. Wouldn't that have meant a second escape so soon after the first was unlikely. Even more unlikely was the dog going to the same place.  
None of this added up. Nothing bad happened the first time, yet during the second unlikely event, the new Stan happened. He shouldn't have been knocked out, but he had been.  
The pieces started coming together as Kyle tapped his hand nerv ously against the wall at the corner of the building, leaning on it as he looked at Stan and Wendy. They looked so amazingly happy, but Kyle was soured by the knowledge that Stan was imagining...he was doing what he needed to. But this was not him.  
He was not knocked out naturally. It had to have been done artificially. The lack of trauma...some sort of sedative. No signs of a struggle, so it was a surprise. Long range? Some sort of tranquilizer dart? The face lacerations...maybe from being dragged on the ground along the hidden path the paramedics had come through to save Stan?  
So it was meant to look like he was knocked out. That means something was done that needed to be hidden. That made Kyle think it very likely that this whole new Stan was artificial. His wallet- Kyle knew it. It had so many pictures, yet only his was there when they found him. Rest were missing. Removed? That wasn't an important detail then, but now- he needed that wallet! There might be fingerprints on it.  
"Stan! I need to talk!" Kyle yelled over the playground. Stan's face shot up from its previous home in Wendy's arms and locked onto Kyle's. He gave Wendy a quick kiss and jogged over. Good move on his part, as she was so absolutely stunned by all of this that she had no time to process what happened next. He only threw up once he got to Kyle, so an improvement(and luckily, Kyle dodged it like it was a Hydooken or whatever from Street Fighter 2).

That was when Kyle's hands shot into Stan's pants at about two miles above the speed of sexy. Stan seemingly jumped into the air and did a double take, his waist jerking in reflex.  
"I'm jyst here for your wallet, don't get too excited." Kyle nearly chuckled as he fished out his friend's wallet. He then turned and jumped over the brick and mortar wall. Like Terrance, he too had science to accomplish.  
And there was Stan, momentarily stunned and unable to move. Luckily, Wendy launched herself on him.  
"Hey! What was that about?" She said with a smile, he heart still racing along. Man, that speech was incredible! She considered herself a better person for hearing it, and felt sorry for everyone who had not heard it. She would have to explain it, but it would be like a mute person telling you about the voice of God. Much is lost in translation.  
"Nothing, K- Wendy, uhh, love. Just Kyle being weird." Stan said as his knees gave away to her momentum. They tumbled together, a beautiful image to those who knew the beauty of puppy love.  
Though it was somewhat rare that the boyfriend was picturing a lanky male jew with a ginger afro and a wicked nose instead of his girlfriend.


End file.
